Howard Karp? Who he? That was my first response when offered this set
for review. Given my total ignorance I hope Kenneth Woods – known
to me as a conductor and blogger of singular passion and insight - will
forgive me for plundering his excellent liner-notes for more details.
Born in Chicago in 1929 Karp studied at both the Oberlin Conservatory
of Music and the Juilliard School of Music. As a Fulbright scholar he
went on to Vienna, and thence to Casa Orfeo in Positano, Italy, for Beethoven
studies with the great Wilhelm Kempff. Thereafter he combined a 45-year
teaching career at US and Asian universities with solo and chamber performances.
He died in June 2014.

It never ceases to amaze me that so many performers – the hugely
talented Mr Karp included - barely get a mention in the burgeoning annals
of cyberspace. Thanks to the advocacy of Kenneth Woods and Albany Records
that’s about to change. This 6-CD set, which ranges far and wide,
strikes me as a handsome tribute to a pianist/pedagogue who really ought
to be better known. That’s rather bold, I hear you cry. Well, having
just sampled the first disc in the box I see no reason to recant. What’s
more, the sound quality seems pretty decent, despite the number of years
and venues spanned. With one exception - the Liszt Ballade No. 2
- these are live performances, taped at campus concerts/recitals; however,
the venue for the Kirchner is given as 'Berlin, 1973'. Some applause has
been retained.

CD 1 starts with a gregarious, open-hearted account of
Schumann’s Op. 17 that pretty much sums up Karp’s strengths
as a performer; he doesn’t shrink from grand gestures, yet he’s
silkily sensitive when required. I’ve seldom heard the wellspring
of Schumann’s talent bubble so freely, not least in the effervescent
central movement. Superbly shaped and projected this is a far cry from
the prissily precise pianism one hears all too much these days. It’s
all about confidence, although in Karp’s case it’s seldom
overweening. After all this pant and ardour the bell-like tones and burnished
weight of the Fantasie’s final movement are simply glorious.

After all that glow the somewhat limited dynamics, narrow soundstage and
peaky treble of Schumann’s Piano Sonata No. 3 - his ’Concerto
without Orchestra’ - are mildly disappointing. That said, Karp’s
magisterial mien is unmistakable - as are his powers of articulation –
especially when the music is at its most fulsome. It’s not just
about separating the notes and maintaining rhythmic edges, for Karp can
be soft and variegated when he needs to be; that’s amply demonstrated
in his subtly shaded account of Liszt’s Ballade No. 2.
The work’s repeated ‘rolling boil’ theme is darkly turbid
and its gentle currents have a wonderful serenity about them. Some may
prefer a more patrician playing style – Jorge Bolet and Claudio
Arrau come to mind - but Karp’s ease and intimacy make this a treasurable
alternative. This was Karp's final recording (2007).

Such felicities of rhythm, touch and phrase ought to stand Karp in good
stead when it come to Schubert’s late, great Piano Sonata No.
19, which opens CD 2. He certainly captures the
score’s carefree elements, which aresubtly offset by those solemn,
hymn-like passages. This really is playing of rare grace and intuition;
indeed, Karp’s many insights remind us of the incredible fecundity
of Schubert’s musical imagination. His discreet shifts of mood and
colour – not to mention the poise of the Adagio - are a
source of lasting pleasure; by the way, there are moments in the latter
movement when the background noise is a little more intrusive than I’d
like. Still, this is a keeper, as they say.

The heavenly lengths and cadences of Schubert’s Piano Sonata
No. 21 are no less appealing; the recording is somewhat warmer than
in the previous sonata and the piano’s upper registers aren’t
so brightly lit. The result is a performance of uncommon blush and beauty,
its clear countenance unblemished by crudely applied dynamic shifts. After
all this spontaneity and charm - not to mention the fine fretwork of the
Allegro non troppo - I have no hesitation in declaring this a
keeper too. Disconcertingly the Impromptu that ends this disc
is weighted towards the left channel. In spite of that - it's also the
oldest recording here - the piano sounds quite clean and full; indeed,
the pinpoints of light that illuminate the score are beautifully caught.
Another keeper? Absolutely.

CD 3 is devoted to works by Chopin and Liszt, both of
whom should suit Karp’s ebullient brand of pianism. Well, yes and
no; although Chopin’s Sonata in B minor is strongly drawn,
its bold peaks nicely contrasted with gentler inclines, there’s
a hint of rhythmic inflexibility and a hardened tone. Still, there’s
much to enjoy both here and in the Mazurka that follows. I must
confess I don’t warm to Karp’s Chopin as readily as I do to
his Liszt. These excerpts from Années de Pèlerinage
have exceptional body and warmth, as well as thrilling amplitude. There’s
a profound nobility to La chapelle de Guillaume Tell, a delicious
sparkle in Au bord d'une source, and Vallée
d'Obermann has seldom seemed so broad and painterly.

Indeed, I’d say that Liszt plays to all Karp’s strengths
as a performer; I particularly relish the dark sonorities here, which
make Jorge Bolet and Jenö Jandó – both seasoned Lisztians
- seem almost insubstantial by comparison. True, Karp isn’t as pellucid
as some, but he’s unerringly evocative and dramatic, and that’s
what really counts. Just listen to Au lac de Wallenstadt –
what ravishing timbres – and the bright animation of Les cloches
de Genève. Karp’s clear bells don’t quite match
up to Bolet’s more magical ones, but goodness they come close. Ditto
in the plash and play of Les jeux d'eau à la Villa d'Este.
There’s some audience noise in quieter moments; otherwise this is
a rich and resonant recording. The enthusiastic applause, soon faded,
is well deserved.

Given that Karp studied Beethoven with Kempff I was intrigued to hear
how much of his mentor’s playing style he might have imbibed. His
Hammerklavier, which opens CD 4, certainly has
the clarity and intimacy of scale that one associates with Kempff. Indeed,
there’s a wonderful stroboscope of light and shade pulsing through
the first movement that makes for a most refreshing and varied performance.
Those reared on the likes of Emil Gilels may feel the sheer rigour of
this late work is underplayed; perhaps, but it would be foolish to dismiss
Karp’s jewelled narrative as somehow undemanding or lightweight.
True, it’s not the only Hammerklavier I’d want on
my shelves, but it’s well worth hearing nonetheless. A word of warning
though; there are a few small dropouts and a bit of hum, neither of which
is distracting enough to spoil the performance.

On the same disc Karp’s reading of Beethoven’s Op. 111 - recorded
three years earlier - is a much cleaner and more sharply focused affair.
It has many of the characteristics that define his Hammerklavier;
there’s a mercurial touch that some may dismiss as superficial or
self-serving, yet there’s also a hushed loveliness to the second
movement that I find most rewarding. As so often, Karp’s phrasing
is unfailingly musical, adding new contours to a work worn smooth by overfamiliarity.
The disc concludes with a warmly expressive rendition of the fourth movement
of Beethoven’s Op. 2 No. 2. Clean of limb and clear of eye it’s
very much in keeping with what we’ve heard thus far. The sound on
this CD does vary from piece to piece; it’s perfectly acceptable,
though.

Most of CD 5 is devoted to Bach’s Goldberg
Variations, presented in somewhat ‘tunnelled’ sound (it
was recorded at the same time as that Schubert Impromptu). Predictably
this isn’t one of the cool – dare one say, rather sanitized
– performances of BWV988 that seem to predominate these days; that
said, Karp’s extrovert reading of this masterpiece is not without
its quirks and quiddities. For instance he takes some of the variations
at breakneck speed, and others aren’t as agile as they might be.
This Goldberg isn’t for everyone, but listeners used to
Glenn Gould’s various traversals won’t mind Karp’s highly
individual way with this score.

You’d think after all that declamatory power Mozart’s K576
would come as something of a relief. Not a bit of it, for Karp is just
as emphatic here. It’s a bright, upfront performance that's apt
to wander a little. Karp’s dexterity is never in doubt, but anyone
seeking more light and shade – a little more room to rest and recover
between volleys – may find him a tad relentless at times. In spite
of so much boldness the Adagio sings to itself most beautifully.
Those who prefer the more elegant and finely nuanced readings of Mitsuko
Uchida et al may feel Karp’s Mozart is too ‘old school’
for their tastes. The same could be said of the third movement from Schubert’s
Piano Sonata No. 18, although Karp makes amends with playing
of astonishing fluidity.

CD 6 offers an eclectic mix, ranging from Bach to Copland.
The latter’s Piano Variations – a work championed
by Karp - is a 10-minute piece whose incipient austerity never succumbs
to dull catechism. No, Karp is much too lively an artist and intellect
to allow that; indeed, his penchant for maximum contrast really pays off
here, whether it’s peremptory single notes or bittersweet chords.
I haven’t heard the PianoVariations in ages,
and those who normally recoil at the merest whiff of serialism would do
well to give it a whirl. The recording is full and weighty, which suits
the music, although I sense an occasional shift of focus that suggests
knob twiddling somewhere along the line. The applause is very appreciative,
though.

The other 20th-century piece on this disc, Leon Kirchner’s Piano
Sonata No. 1, is compromised to some extent by a cave-like acoustic.
As before the quality of Karp’s playing is such that any sonic shortfalls
are quickly forgotten. It’s a piece of some sinew, twisted with
tendons of near lyricism, and I suspect this is as good a performance
of the sonata as you’re likely to hear. It certainly reinforces
my admiration for the Copland, which strikes me as a far more inventive
and durable work.

The melodic outpourings of Bach’s Partita No. 4 offer some
respite after that brief flirtation with pared-down modernity. As with
Karp’s Goldberg Variations this is a commendably crisp
and dynamic performance whose contrapuntal cascades are handled with aplomb.
The music-box delicacy and twirl of Schubert’s Piano Sonata
No. 17 (fourth movement) which concludes the set, is similarly well
done. It’s that rare thing, an alchemical fusion of inspiration
and insight that makes it all the more tragic that we don’t get
to hear Karp in the complete work.

I can’t possibly end this review on a note of regret, for there
is far too much here for which we should be truly grateful. After hours
of careful listening I can see why Howard Karp has such a devoted following.
I wouldn’t want everything here – I respect rather then love
his Bach, Mozart and Beethoven - but his Liszt and Schubert are in another
league entirely. Kenneth Woods’ detailed and lively liner-notes
round off a most attractive package.